Shut Me Down
by SilenceIsInfinite
Summary: Fang cleared his throat again. "Maximum Ride." He spoke softly, but without the familiarity that was bubbling inside of Max's chest. It was as if she were a stranger to him. "You have been condemned to death for the murder of your flock." He spoke the word as if it were fire on his tongue. *Set after Fang* ONE-SHOT. Happy Halloween!


**Happy Halloween! Actually, Halloween was canceled where I live (Thanks, Sandy), so I thought I'd just give you a little cheering up present for all of you who share the DISASTEROUS FATE of Sandy. My power has been out for 5 days, so I'm actually writing this at a computer lab at the local YMCA (Heheh.) Oh, and I also know that I'm almost a week late. I mean, having no power sucked and a tree fell on my house o_O **

**This fanfiction is based off of the song If You Think This Song Is About You, It Probably Is by D.R.U.G.S. (Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows) **

**For those of you who are wondering, this takes place after FANG. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, James Patterson does!**

* * *

_This shouldn't be happening._

The door to the left closed with a loud _thwack_, but it was as if the sound were lightyears away. Her mind was a few pages behind the literal situation, and her brain hadn't assessed the situation. Usually, she'd be planning for an escape or mapping out all of the possible ways to get out, but this time nothing would come to mind.

And it terrified her.

The room Max was standing in a room with white flooring and wallpaper, as if the room that was actually quite small were much larger than it truly was. The door that had allowed her into this room was also painted white, and was becoming increasingly hard to find as she became lost within the bleak and stark room.

Max's eyes were transfixed on the direct sight before her, a wooden chair that would have suited Goldylocks lay in the middle of the room, and hanging from the tall ceiling was a rope.

More specifically a noose, one for hanging.

The air was stale as Max took a cautious step forward. Her feet were bare, and cold on the floor. Each step sent tremors of ice into her body, her paper gown not adding any heat. Surreptitiously she sat on the chair and willed her body not to think, to ensure any tendril of thought would not escape past the barrier she had built. She put her head in her hands and took in deep breaths.

The door opened. Outwardly, Max's position didn't change in the slightest, but her barriers became solid steel. Even with her raptor hearing, there wasn't a trace of footsteps, but she could hear breathing, hot on the top of her head, as if there was something, _someone _bending right in front of her.

It cleared its throat, a raspy sound that was all too familiar. Only it wasn't him, it couldn't have been him, it _shouldn't _be him. Slowly, Max raised her head out of her hands as if she were afraid she may bump into him. Her eyes widened.

Fang. A person that she had known all too well. His expression was still the same, the half smirk permanently etched onto his mouth. His hair was still as black as coal, and his lanky figure let out an air of impatience; his arms were crossed and a Converse-clad foot was tapping against the floor. His eyes, however, were darker than they had been the last time that Max had seen him, however long ago it was. The dark brown, seemingly black eyes appeared like cold obsidian, dilated even in the brightly lit room.

Max wanted to look away, but shock and something else she couldn't identify kept her in place, her hands still in the cupped position on her lap.

Fang cleared his throat again. "Maximum Ride." He spoke softly, but without the familiarity that was bubbling inside of Max's chest. It was as if she were a stranger to him. "You have been condemned to death for the murder of your _flock_." He spoke the word as if it were fire on his tongue.

_This isn't Fang, _her mind screamed. _This can't be Fang. _

"Isn't it _our _flock?" Max corrected, finding her voice. She felt thankful for keeping the barriers up on her mind, but the pressure was building up far too quickly. Each time she close her eyes she could see red, coating everything in its path.

_"Was," _Fang corrected. He took a step closer to her. "Tell me," he said conversationally, "was it fun ripping off their wings, one by one?"

Max looked away, bile rising up in her throat. Her heart was pounding in her ears, the erratic thump extremely loud. She wondered if Fang could hear it, if this new him would adore her agony-

Fang gripped the side of Max's face and forced her to look at him. "Was it?" he asked. He asked over and over again, the same question with the bored tone in his voice. It was ripping Max apart, word by word. She knew what he was trying to do, to force the words from her. It didn't cease, it was like the words were becoming a low hum that pulled her into a trance.

"No." It was Max's voice, but it felt like she had said it from a mile away.

Fang made a tutting noise, shaking his head slightly. His grip on her face tightened. "Liar," he accused. He tapped her cheek with his index finger. "You've always been awful at lying."

She tried to grit her teeth, but failed with the positioning of his hand on her face. Instead she sent a glare in his direction, filled with poison and cold hatred. His pupils only seemed to grow larger, eating up his irises.

"Are you going to spit more official and intimidating words at me, or are you going to kill me?" Max asked him, finding her courage. "I bet you'll _love _it."

He slapped her across the face, the sound of skin hitting skin resounding in ripples in the white room. Although Max didn't want to admit it, it hurt. More than the injections from the School or the burning sensation of betrayal that she had felt while reading the goodbye message from Fang, still in her beautiful dress.

_I hope you'll forgive me someday for turning our worlds into shades of gray. _She had memorized the whole letter, stayed up late at night for months repeating the words until they lost all of their meaning.

"You're right. I'd also like to see someone else kill you slowly, painfully," he dragged the words out, making them lucid. "Ari?" he suggested.

A chill went down Max's spine, but she dismissed it. "Science these days," she commented. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"You just can't kill people like you used to," Fang agreed. His face hardened, like he had just done something irrevocably insane. "It'd be easy killing you."

_What was that? _she asked herself. Maybe she was over analyzing it, and nothing was different in the least from the new, unrecognizable Fang. A part of her mind disagreed, but she shut it out.

"Just as easy as decorating this room, huh," she said. "So much for making our worlds shades of gray. They seem clear as _white _to me."

For a moment, Fang's eyes widened, as if remembering what he had written so long ago, although it had only been roughly a year. The curious part in her mind stretched-

He punched her in the nose, the crack of a broken bone evident. As the blood streamed down Max's face in ribbons, she made no attempt to wipe it away but glared at him yet again, hoping to switch the situation.

_"Monster," _Fang snarled. Max was not familiar with the tone of anger directed at her, it was usually reserved for Erasers or Flyboys. All of the creatures that the School created in which they had fought together. The _flock _had fought together.

Max's heart constricted. Her barrier was beginning to crumble, and when that happened she wouldn't be able to think, to breathe, to make decisions. She'd become what Fang had just called her, a _monster._

Fang left no room for Max to say something. "You are a _murderer!"_ He repeated the word "murderer" with the same malice, like getting rid of a bad taste, although it was as if he were trying to reassure himself that Max wasn't to be trusted. Once the word was said it would be repeated once again louder, and by thirty seconds Fang was screaming at Max, who was still with shock.

"Stop it," she whispered, unheard as Fang continued yelling. Each word put a dent in her barrier, and a searing pain was overcoming her entire body. It was going to happen, and she'd kill everyone. She knew it, and the fear implanted itself into her head.

"Get up." Fang jerked Max from her position on the chair, jolting her from her thoughts. He slung her against the white wall, now becoming slick with the sluggish current of blood from Max's nose. He flipped her so that he was facing her.

"Fang..." Max started. She knew that there was only moments until she would break. Her wings shuffled uncomfortably with her back against the wall. It was lukewarm, probably from her blood.

"Be honest, Max," Fang said. His pupils had swallowed his eyes, now the harsh and deep black of spilt ink. "When you killed them," he cleared his throat, "did you ever mention my name?"

Her response poured out of her mouth thickly with a horrendous taste. "Never." Before she knew it, hot tears welled in her eyes. "I'd say your name all night alone, _without you_, until it didn't have meaning anymore." It was the same with the letter; the same with everything about Fang after he had left.

Fang pressed harder against her, and Max was once again reminded that her time was limited. She would kill him if he didn't move, and she didn't like it. She didn't like being stuck in this white room.

Max looked up to meet Fang's eyes, lost in wonder and raw fear over how black and lifeless they were. They were lost in silence, with nothing left to say. She knew it was over. She knew that she needed to pay, and that there was no more time left until she would be a monster.

Fang always knew what Max was thinking, and she felt cornered in the endless white room, pinned so closely by Fang. What would she do to be the Max that was the girl everyone knew instead of the cold blooded monster?

She leaned in close to Fang, so close that there was no space between their bodies. Their lips brushed, and she lingered for a moment, silently asking him if she could do this, _one more time. _When their lips connected, the taste was bittersweet full of emotions that were lost upon the two. Grief, sadness, and the terror of Max's oncoming death. For now, however, Max tangled her fingers in Fang's hair and kissed him with all the strength she had left. He didn't understand for once, and that jolt of remembrance arrived again. He drew away.

"Did you get sick of it?" Fang asked, breathing heavily. Max knew it. There was _one _more thing he needed to know.

"Of what?" she asked.

"The shame."

She opened and closed her mouth for about ten seconds, the actions resembling a fish. The words would not come this time, and she didn't have an answer.

She looked at the floor once again, staring at the laces of Fang's shoes.

As if disgusted, Fang pushed away from Max roughly. Without the support of Fang, she sunk to the floor. She felt repulsed by herself, by the fact that she had killed the flock, all of the family she had ever known. As the door shut behind her, she knew that he wouldn't be coming back for another chat.

A choking noise escaped Max's throat. It was beginning. Her body felt like it was being electrocuted, at the same time drenched in water and lit on fire. Her head was spinning, and the world was on sideways while her eyes glazed over, the black spots threatening to engulf her in oblivion. She sunk back, letting it happen, allowing everything to fade to black.

* * *

When Max awoke, she was tied to the chair with rope, her wings spread out. It was knotted and bloody. The white and pristine walls of the room were almost coated in a layer of blood. A headache thumped uncomfortably; it didn't hurt, it was like a pesky fly. Max looked up with a dazed expression on her face, meeting the eyes of Fang, who had a gash on the side of his arm and a split lip. He glared at her.

_What happened?_

A whirling noise erupted to the left of Max, too fast for her to register it until she felt pain on her shoulder. A knife was visible in the wood of the chair above Max's shoulder, although it had nicked her. She grit her teeth.

"You have two choices," Fang asked, his voice void of emotion. He threw another knife, this one missing her ear by an inch. "I can kill you, or you can do it yourself."

Max fixed her eyes on the noose that lay directly above her. She tried to wiggle her way out of the chair, knowing that there was no way around the complicated knots of the chair. It was too late, by anyone's standards.

"You can try," Max said, narrowing her eyes at Fang.

"Alright then."

Fang reached into his back pocket, retrieving knives. There were five of them, sharp and dangerous. The silver metal glinted off of the light in the room, but there were no windows nor artificial light sources. She wondered faintly where the light had come from.

"Angel." He threw the first one, one that Max's ear in the center. She sucked in a breath, and the sensation of lukewarm blood trickling down her ear surprised her, so clear. Her hearing made it worse, but she made herself keep her eyes open as he threw the next.

It spun in a circle, about to hit her face. Max swung her head to the side, thankful that she could move that body part, and it only hit her lip and then the wooden back of the chair.

Fang tutted, walking up slowly to Max and wrenching the knife out of the wooden board. He righted Max's face with the flat side of the knife. "That one was for Gazzy, dearest _Maxie_." Fang drew back and then plunged it into her other ear. Max hissed in pain.

"Nudge." With a flick of his wrist, another knife wedged its way into her left wing - dead center. She felt the blood matting her feathers together. A low groan left Max's lips.

"Iggy." Into her right eye. She screamed in pain; it felt like flames were licking at her face.

Fang walked to Max, a single knife left in his hand. She knew what was going to happen. Fang traced the tip of the knife along her chest. "This is for me." He thrusted forward, the knife burying itself into Max's heart. Blood began to pour from her mouth. "I love you," he said softly.

The black spots were back again, dancing above her eyesight. "Fang," she said weakly. "Come here."

"Okay." He smirked, doing what he was told. Max kissed him on the cheek, leaving a bloody imprint of her lips on the side of his face. She smirked softly at his expression, willing herself not to break eye contact. She could feel the clutches of death bringing her to a blinding white light, brighter than the room before her.

"I love you, too."

* * *

**Well, that was... creepy. I think I outdid myself there for the creepiest things I've ever written. Huzzah. Please tell me what you think, and happy late Halloween!**

**~SilenceIsInfinite**


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